


A Little Sentiment

by Tangela



Series: It's Ineffable [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: Aziraphale's home isn't at all what Crowley had expected.





	A Little Sentiment

The first time Crowley visits Aziraphale’s home - after the dust of the whole end of the world business settles, of course - he has a vague idea in mind of what to expect. Doilies. One of these signs that reads ‘Bless this mess’. An exact replica of a furniture catalogue spread from 1942. Something along those lines.

The last thing he expects is what can only be described as a well-organised hoarder’s nest. He can tell it’s organised not only by how Aziraphale navigates it all with such ease, but by how everything is categorised by item. 

Stacks of newspaper, neatly tied with string, line one wall of what was once a living room, with a pair of paper scissors and a scrapbook sitting open on a little table next to them. Vases and ornaments of all shapes and sizes litter one corner, while books, hardback and paper, occupy another. An entire wall is adorned with paintings. Crowley has never heard of any of the artists.

“Have a seat wherever you like,” Aziraphale calls cheerily from the kitchen.

“Where?” Crowley asks before he can stop himself.

The sofa’s been lost to scrolls of paper of varying ages, and the one armchair is drowning in embroidery hoops.

Aziraphale peeps out from the doorway, somewhat chagrined.

“I know what it looks like,” he starts.

“Oh, good, I thought I was the only one,” Crowley replies. “What _is_ all this?”

“History, dear boy.”

Aziraphale disappears for a moment before reappearing with two mugs - one tea, one coffee. He hands the mug of coffee to Crowley.

Crowley just looks at him. “You do know what the Internet is, right?”

Aziraphale makes a face. “Yes, and how long do we expect that to last, really?” he replies with a sniff.

He perches on the edge of the armchair. Crowley stays standing, still at a loss for words.

“Look, I-” Aziraphale takes a breath before he continues. “I can’t stand the idea of all of these- all of these perfectly good things that someone has put so much time into being forgotten and thrown away. It doesn’t seem right.”

And then it hits Crowley. All the years they’ve been on this Earth, and how quietly Aziraphale’s had to go about living. His work comes first, it wouldn’t do to get close to any human, only to lose them a few decades later. There are no parades for his miracles, no matter the size. He doesn’t want anyone to be forgotten, like he would be.

Crowley takes a sip of his coffee, trying to gather his words.

“You look like you could use a hand,” he says after a while.

Aziraphale smiles at him shyly. “I suppose I could.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still easing myself in to this fandom with little snippets and headcanons, and I do hope they're okay. My first fic got a lovely little reception, which I wasn't expecting at all. I'm still reading the book, so hopefully my ideas aren't terribly out of character. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Twitter: @robospacetrash  
> tumblr: @maybeishouldwritesomething


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